The Big Blue Box
by S J Smith
Summary: There's an addition to the boys' apartment.


**Title:** The Big Blue Box

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** There's a new addition to the boys' apartment.

**Disclaimer:** Never in a billion years (but a fangirl can dream!).

**Notes: **This was written for the Dreamwidth comm, Fandom_Stocking. It's also my first time writing The Monkees.

* * *

Mike was the first to realize something new had been added to the apartment. The big blue box sat in the corner, out of the way, and somehow, the stuffed monkey wound up on top of it, which was why Mike hadn't noticed it immediately – with the monkey on top, it blended in with everything else.

Kind of.

Well. Enough, at least.

Mike gave the box a once over, walking back and forth in front of it and stroking his chin. He opened his mouth a couple of times, as if to ask the box what it was doing here, then realized that was a stupid idea, and, with one last long look, he shook his head and walked away, giving a half-hearted wave over his shoulder.

* * *

"What's this?" Mickey bounced up in front of it, leaning so close, his nose nearly touched the wood paneling.

"It's a police call box," Davy said, from where he slumped on the couch, a newspaper in hand, hoping to find them a job this week so they could pay the rent.

"A police what-what?" Mickey peered back over his shoulder.

"Call box." Davy frowned, and twisted around, meeting Mickey's eyes. "I thought you guys got it an' put it there for me!"

"Huh?"

"It's British!"

"Oh." Mickey scratched his curly head. "It is?" he asked, dubious, and rapped his knuckles on the door. "What's it for?"

Davy shrugged. "The police use it back home," he said, "s'got a telephone innit so they can call for help. An' they can lock criminals up inside, too."

"Criminals? Seriously?" Mickey gave the box a long, studying look, then knocked on the door again. "Helloooo? Anyone in there?"

Blinking, Davy got off the couch. "Hey, 'ave you seen Peter lately?"

"Pete? Peter?" Drumming on the door, Mickey shouted, "Pete, baby! Are you in there? Answer me, Pete!" He swung around, thumping his skull against the box, mock agony on his face as he slid down the wall of the box. "Noo! We've lost him forever! Peter!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Mickey," Mike said, coming into the apartment, Peter in tow. "Pete's been with me the whole day."

Peter nodded his agreement. "Oh," he said, smiling, "cool box!"

Pointing with one hand at Peter, the other arm crossing over his chest to point at the box, Mickey made a face. "You're okay, Pete?"

"Sure. But why do we have a big blue box in the living room?"

The door to the apartment opened and a man strolled through, wearing a long brown jacket, and an even longer, multi-colored scarf. A brown floppy hat did little to contain the riot of curls – just as wild as Mickey's – on top his head. A beaky nose and wide blue eyes competed with a smile that almost split his face open. "Oh, sorry," he said, wagging a piece of metal on a chain. Mike thought it looked almost like an arrowhead. "I didn't realize I'd be here this long. Didn't mean to take up your space like this." He strode past them, gently picked up Mickey by his upper arms and shifted him out of the way – "Sorry, old chap" – and put the arrowhead in the door, twisting it, and the door popped open.

Peter's eyes widened as light, cool and brilliant, spilled out of the opening before the strange man popped through, closing the door behind him, the fringe of his scarf stuck in the frame. "Wow," he said, as the light on top of the box started flashing, and a peculiar sound grated up his spine. The box wavered in their sights for a few seconds, then vanished completely, leaving the corner empty except for the stuffed monkey. "Did you guys see that? The box was bigger on the inside than the outside!"

"Oh, come on, Pete," Mickey scoffed. "Nothing's ever bigger on the inside than on the outside!"

"Yeah, Peter, that only exists in movies," Mike added.

Peter turned to Davy. "Did you see?"

Davy shook his head, burying his nose in the newspaper again. "Sorry, man."

"Guys, really! I saw it!" Peter protested.

Mike clapped his hand on Peter's shoulder. "C'mon. I'll buy you a pop."

"Ooh, me too, me too!" Mickey scrambled over to them, bouncing up and down. "You comin', short stuff?"

Looking over the paper, Davy shook his head. "Need t'finish up my reading," he said. "You guys go on ahead."

"You sure about that, Davy?" Mike asked, peering at him closely.

"Yeah, I'll see you guys later!" He waved when Mickey opened his mouth to protest, and Peter raised his hand.

"Come on, guys." Mike planted his hand on both Mickey's and Peter's shoulders, guiding them out the door.

Davy waited until it closed to leap to his feet, running over to the space where the box had been. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tiny device, something that resembled a miniature screwdriver, and pointed it at the space. The device gave off a chittering sound, then a dolorous beep. Davy reviewed the readings with a grim turn to his mouth.

If the Time Lords found him here, it'd ruin _everything._

* * *

_end_


End file.
